


Dog Days are Over

by marvelandimagine



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Civil War (Marvel), F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-06-08 21:05:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6873214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvelandimagine/pseuds/marvelandimagine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky x reader. Civil War setting. Reader and Bucky meet in Romania and fall for each other, but Bucky's past continues to haunt him. Despite his eventual admission to being the Winter Soldier, the reader stays with him and all is well until Bucky is framed for the Vienna bombings. After that, nothing will ever be the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Goddammit, Nala come back!” You yell frantically after your cheerfully bounding golden retriever now streaking through the crowded Romanian marketplace, barking as she goes.

You curse under your breath as you weave your way through the throng of people, uttering hasty apologies as you sprint to keep Nala in your field of vision; ignoring the growing stitch in your side.

“Mental note: get my ass to the gym ASAP,” you think exasperatedly, your chest heaving. You swear again as Nala sprints around the corner and you inhale deeply before quickening your pace to reach her; your faded Converse smacking against the dirty pavement with every stride.

You round the corner only to look on in a panic as your huge, muscled fur baby eagerly jumps onto a tall stranger; the sheer velocity of her gleeful pounce knocking him flat on his back and sending his bag of plums flying into the dusty street.

“NALA, GET OFF OF HIM, NOW!” You roar, dodging traffic as you scoop the bag off the ground quickly and frantically pray that this guy isn’t the sue-happy type. As you rush to pull Nala off of the man, you feel slightly less panicked about being dragged into court – he definitely doesn’t look like a businessman.

Still, he’s undeniably handsome. You quickly take in his brown strands of hair falling messily from underneath a black baseball cap and the dark stubble accentuating his strong jawline. You’re pleased to see that he’s laughing at Nala’s pawing; his eyes squinting shut as he gently pushes her away while she attempts to lick his face off.

You tug Nala’s collar backwards, quickly tying a knot at the end of the leash’s rope before attaching it to her. You bring your face level with hers, glaring sternly as her panting changes to a dejected whining.

“Ohhhh, do not give me the innocent act, missy,” you hiss. You’ve had Nala since you were 12; you both have developed a strong enough connection to the point where you both know how to understand each other’s verbal and nonverbal cues.“You know that was bad, and you and I are going to have a talk when we get home, WITHOUT treats.”

As Nala rests her head on the ground in defeat, you turn your attention back to the man, who you realize is still observing you interact with Nala.

“I am SO, so sorry about that, I don’t know what got into her. Are you alright?”

The man chuckles slightly, a flicker of a smile crossing his face.

“Yeah, I’m fine. But really, it’s ok. She’s a beautiful dog.”

You sigh deeply, both of you turning to look at Nala, her ears now perked up as if she is cognizant of receiving praise.

“Beautiful and a regular pain in my ass.” You cross your arms as you stare her down but sigh resignedly. “But mama loves you, doesn’t she?”

Nala barks happily and rises to nuzzle against your leg and both you and the man laugh.

The man looks at you, biting his lip apprehensively.

“Um, can I pet her?”

You smile warmly, captivated by this shy and utterly adorable figure.

“Be my guest, umm ..” you wait in response for a name.

As he stoops down and Nala rushes into his arms, he swallows as if he’s concentrating deeply and looks up at you.

“Bucky. My name is Bucky.”

“I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you, Bucky. And Nala certainly seems to think so too.”

Bucky smiles and you sigh at the sight of Nala contentedly nuzzling into Bucky’s broad chest, but this time, it’s out of your own contentment. Bucky is being so sweet with her, his right hand stroking her fur as he murmurs quietly.

“You’re not a bad pup, you just don’t know your own strength, yeah?”

You feel something soften inside you at his words, watching his tender expression as Nala wags her tail cheerfully. You muster up what courage you have and decide to roll the dice; this guy is too nice and too cute to let go so quickly.

“So, judging by your name, I’m assuming you’re not originally from Romania? What brings you to our beautiful Bucharest?”

You watch curiously as Bucky’s face tightens, his eyes fixated on Nala’s golden fur with an intensity you don’t quite understand.

“I just … I … I needed somewhere to start over.” The words come hesitantly, as if he’s weighing each syllable. He suddenly stands up and runs a hand nervously through his brown hair, biting his lip and looking at you anxiously.

“I’m sorry if that’s weird, I just -”

You cut him off with a soothing, “Hey,” placing your hand on his shoulder for a brief second; noticing the way he tenses under your touch and looks at your hand disbelievingly, meeting your gaze with wide eyes as if no one has ever reached out so gently before.

“It’s not weird,” you say simply. “We all deserve the chance to be happy and to move on from whatever, wherever.”

Bucky’s blue grey eyes lock on yours, and although you don’t know it, he finds a feeling in his chest rising that he barely remembers. Something tingly, electrifying – something that certainly feels like the happiness you just described.

You smile shyly, a blush rising in your cheeks from the feeling that pools in your stomach as his eyes fixate on yours. Bucky smiles crookedly back, voice so low that it’s practically a whisper when he says, “Thank you.”

“Of course. And don’t worry,” you sit down on the sidewalk, Nala perched joyfully in between the two of you, “You absolutely blend in well here. I wouldn’t have known you weren’t local if it wasn’t for your name. Damn impressive pronunciation for a non-native speaker.”

Bucky exhales with relief and you both chuckle lightly. He continues to pet Nala but turns his gaze toward you. You don’t realize he’s staring as you run a hand through your tousled locks, bringing your knees closer to your chest and shrugging your dark jacket tighter to cover your hands in the cool breeze. Bucky takes in your bright eyes, your thick lashes, the smattering of freckles across your cheeks. Goddamitt, you are so pretty. And here you are, sitting with him without a care in the world, acting like he’s a completely normal human being. You have no idea of the things he’s done, who he really is.

The feeling rises in his chest again but this time, it’s mixed with something like guilt. Before he can say anything, though, you start to speak.

“It’s getting kinda cold.” You stare down at the toes of your worn sneakers before turning to look at Bucky, your heartbeat quickening as you open your mouth to speak again. “I don’t know if you’re busy, but could I buy you a coffee or something? I’d feel less guilty about letting my fluff monster run you down like a semi.” You take a deep breath and continue. “And I also know how shitty and lonely it can be to be somewhere where you don’t know anyone.”

You look at Bucky nervously, your heart sinking at the look of surprise on his face. You rush to interject, trying to mask the fact that you’re inexplicably enamored by this man you barely know.

“It’s totally fine if you don’t want to, I just figured -”

“No. I want to. I’d love to, really” he stammers, his expression pained. “I guess I just, I don’t really do this a lot.”

You smirk, resting your chin in your hand. “Let strange women buy you coffee in a foreign city?”

Bucky smiles crookedly. “No, I mean, you’re not strange anyways, I mean, just … I don’t have friends here. You’re one of the first people I’ve had a real conversation with,’” he murmurs quietly, staring down at the pavement.

Nala whines, sensing Bucky’s sadness and rests her chin on his knees, eliciting a wondrous yet small smile from him.

“Well, Nala wants to be your friend! And so do I.”

Bucky looks at you dejectedly, his eyes clouding over.

“But you don’t even know me.”

“I know enough to know you’re a decent person,” you say sincerely. “You could’ve been a dick about Nala bulldozing you and you weren’t. You were sweet with her, and sweet to me. And more importantly, Nala adores you already, and in the 12 years I’ve had her, her character judgment has been infallible.”

To prove your point, Nala begins to paw at Bucky’s legs, stopping only when he scratches behind her ears, letting out a brief bark before wagging her tail happily.

“And you don’t even know me, either, Buck, but here we are.”

Bucky opens his mouth to respond but something inside him cuts him off. Here he is, trying to start over with a new life, and he’s trying to single-handedly convince this cute, sweet girl that he’s not worth befriending. Why?

“You’ve had a lot of your life fucked up already; here’s a chance for something that isn’t. Your memories are coming back, you’re way more in control. You even have an apartment, albeit a shitty one. Like Y/N said, you deserve to be happy.”

Bucky’s thoughts rush by quickly and as he looks at your kind countenance, he makes his decision.

He grins, actually grins and laughs before sighing comically.

“Touche, Y/N.”

Your laugh is the catalyst to confidence, something that he hasn’t felt in god knows how long. He stands up and extends a gloved hand to you – you grasp it gratefully, savoring the warmth in his strong touch and the spark that seems to shoot through you at the contact.

You hold out Nala’s leash to him and he takes it; you curse under your breath as she dutifully accepts the click around her neck.

“ARE YOU GODDAMN KIDDING NALA?! She makes me chase her down for minutes before I can do that,” you groan exasperatedly.

Bucky laughs and you nudge him playfully with your shoulder, giggling as he nudges you back.

“Hey, be nice to Nala. She is the reason we met, after all,” Bucky says smoothly, silently congratulating himself as you hum happily, meeting his eyes with yours.

“That she is,” you say softly, smiling slightly to yourself as you notice the color growing in Bucky’s cheeks at his small flirtation. “Maybe she will get herself a treat later.”

As you continue to talk, asking Bucky about his time in Romania so far with such enthusiasm; promising to show him here and there and everywhere (if he wants, of course) as you gesticulate eagerly your hands, Bucky can’t help but catch himself lost in admiring everything about you.

If this feeling in his chest from being beside you, from the way you joke with him, how you show sincere interest in what he says, how goddamn sweet you are, how your smile seems to light up his whole fucking world – if this is what happiness feels like, he promises himself then and there that he’s going to do everything he can to never let it slip from his grasp again. To not let you slip away.


	2. Chapter 2

“C’mon, Barnes, why the hell are you so nervous? Compared to all the missions you’ve done for HYDRA, asking a girl out should be so goddamn simple.”

Bucky rubs at the back of his neck as he looks at you out of the corner of his eye. Your bright eyes are even more pronounced in the afternoon sun, your hair shining and looking invitingly soft. Your brown leather jacket lies unzipped underneath a military green scarf; your white t-shirt’s bottom hem skimming the waistband of your dark, skin-tight jeans that perfectly show off your physical assets.

Your black boots contrast with the vibrant greenness of the grass and you’re clapping enthusiastically as you watch Nala catch a well-aimed frisbee in her mouth. Bucky has never seen anything more pure, more beautiful. And he knows that he’s being selfish, that you deserve so much better than him, but he craves that beauty, that intangible goodness – he craves you.

You’re standing close to him, close enough to where he can smell your delicious perfume – you’d describe it as “summer in a bottle,” but Bucky would say that it smells like home.

That’s how he explains the new feeling that’s grown in his chest since he’s met you to himself: that you feel like home. He doesn’t want to use the l-word, because that’s just too overwhelming right now – he just got his brain back, he doesn’t know how he’d handle complete heartbreak. So home it is. He knows he’s only barely met you, but he can’t help but find himself lost in daydreams; wondering how your hand would feel in his, the way your lips would taste against his own, the way your body would look if he was able to take off those layers …

The way his pulse quickens when he hears the familiar “ping” of his iPhone – he ditched his track phone the day he met you – when you text him. The way he feels when he hears you laugh, especially if it’s at something he said; the sweetest goddamn sound that he’s ever heard, playfully ringing in his ears to help lull him to his restless sleep. How you graciously handle the moments when he struggles to verbalize his thoughts or how you gently nudge him when he suddenly spaces out, staring off into the distance.

Your words echo everyday, the ones telling him that he deserves to be happy. And he knows, just knows, deep inside him that you are his best chance at that. The way he feels about you brings him back to Brooklyn, to harmless teenage romance and butterflies and first times and remembering the way pretty girls made him feel. When it was ok to want someone, to like them more than friends. But that doesn’t make what he’s planning to do any less terrifying and it doesn’t change his Winter Soldier days.

Bucky jolts out of his reverie as you yell out: “Look at my little superstar!” dropping down to retrieve the frisbee from Nala’s mouth as she runs back only to be met with a defiant tug.

“Ohhhh, that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?” You grimace comically as you tug back and Nala growls back playfully.

“Nala, I can’t throw the frisbee if I can’t get the frisbee, you floofy little dope,” you say endearingly, despite your increasingly forcible tugs.

Bucky can’t help but chuckle at the sight and you huff out at him with a laugh: “Shut up, Bucky!”

Bucky grins as he looks at Nala, who yanks the frisbee out of your grasp, tilting you off balance and sending you falling face down with a yelp. Bucky quickly grabs the frisbee from Nala’s mouth with no resistance, sending it flying into the distance as he drops down to your side.

“Are you ok?” he says concernedly, tentatively putting his right hand on your shoulder.

“Just peachy.” You muffle into the grass. Bucky sighs with relief, letting out his own yelp as you quickly grab his hand as you grin into the grass, tugging him down to lay next to you.

You both stay like this in the warm grass for what seems like minutes but it’s probably only seconds, heads tilted to face each other. Your triumphant smirk softens as you take in the way Bucky is looking at you.The weariness normally etched across his face is replaced by his gorgeous smile, his eyes fixed intensely on your own.

Bucky can’t take his eyes off you; the adorable smile on your face, your freckles strikingly apparent in the sunlight. You’re so close, too close, perfectly close – “Goddammit, Buck, why don’t you just kiss her right now?”

Bucky’s nerves get the best of him but yours do too, eyes flickering for a millisecond to Bucky’s lips and then down to the grass.

You fight to keep the blush from spreading to your cheeks, fight to keep your feelings in check as you coyly say, “That’s for making Nala listen to you more than her own mom.” 

Bucky’s heart sinks as the intimate moment between you two passes, worried that he’s missed his golden opportunity. But he smiles anyway, determined to take things back in a direction he wants.

“Well, this is retaliation.”

You shriek with laughter as Bucky suddenly flips you onto your back, holding your wrists down lightly. He’s surprised and proud of his own bold flirtation, but he’s being as gentle as possible and the blazing, fixated look you give him makes it clear that you’re ok with this.

His own heart is pounding as he suddenly becomes very aware of the growing hardness in his jeans; it should be a sin how good it feels to be hovering there between your legs, only a few layers of clothes between fully revealing your gorgeous body; your face flushed and hair spread out underneath you.

Your heart is racing too, savoring Bucky’s physical weight between your hips, his strength practically radiating from him. Heat floods into your stomach and through your veins, turned on how utterly sexy your normally shy friend looks looks pinning you down, his brown hair falling in his eyes and his broad chest rising and falling quicker than usual. You imagine what his muscles look underneath that red Henley, the way he’d feel underneath your eager fingertips.

You swallow and smile crookedly as you roll the dice once more:

“Wow, Buck, you could at least take me to dinner first,” you say half jokingly, half sincerely, cursing yourself inwardly as his eyes widen and he pulls himself off of you.

Before you can speak and hopefully dig yourself out of what appears to be a very deep and awkward grave, Bucky extends a gloved hand to you, helping to bring you to your feet. Only, he doesn’t let your hand go when you stand up.

He looks at you nervously, color rising in his own cheeks, and you feel a surge of wild hope pulse in your heart.

“Can I?” he asks quietly.

“Please say yes, please say yes, please say yes, please don’t let me have fucked up the one good thing in my life,” his thoughts run frantically through his head as you stare at him blankly.

“Is he asking me out, is he asking me out, I’m either missing some major cognitive cues or I THINK HE’S TRYING TO ASK ME OUT,” your own brain screeches gleefully.

But still, assuming that and being wrong would be disastrous. So you make sure to double check, so that way, if you’re wrong, you can force a smile then go pick up a bottle of wine on the way home and cry about how dumb you feel in the comfort of your apartment like the grown ass woman you are. #Adulthood.

“Can you what?” you ask innocently with a small smile, trying to keep yourself from laughing hysterically out of sheer anxiousness.

“Shit, shit, DOUBLE SHIT, she didn’t get it,” Bucky’s voice yells inside him in a panic. 

“Um. I just, you said I should, goddamn it, I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m doing,” Bucky says with a sad laugh, letting go of your hand and his left through his hair and trying not to rip it out from anxiety. “Um,”

Before he can continue, you do what you did that first day you met: give him that soothing “Hey,” before you take his hand back in yours, squeezing it reassuringly.

“Bucky, it’s ok,” you say sincerely, giving him that goddamn beautiful, sweet smile of yours and the push he needs. “What is it?”

Bucky takes a deep breath before the final plunge and the words finally come out: “Can I take you to dinner?”

You’re surprised you don’t physically melt into a puddle of adoring mush right then and there, because that’s certainly how your heart feels. God, you knew from day one that this guy was special and here he is, so shy and sweet and handsome and wonderful, even with the flashes of what you’ve inferred is PTSD, asking you out.

You beam at him as you nod vigorously, “I’d love that.”

Bucky beams right back, but he feels like he looks like an absolute idiot from smiling so widely – and why did he feel so tingly, like he could almost float back to his apartment? Maybe it really was the l-word.

“Great, that’s great,” he says with noticeable relief and you can’t help but laugh – he’s just so cute.

“Bucky, you weren’t nervous at all about asking me out, were you?” You tease gently, yelling, “AW,” as Bucky groans and buries his face in his hands with a chuckle.

“No, not at all,” he says sarcastically and you laugh again, removing his hands from his face.

“It was cute,” you smile shyly, taking one step closer to him. “Just like you.”

Rolling the dice has gotten you this far, so why stop now? You bring your lips to his cheek tenderly, grazing the stubble on his jaw as you pull back.

Bucky’s eyes close as your lips touch his skin and they blink open wide, shaking his head in disbelief.

He wants to tell you how amazing you are, how you’re literally the most perfect person he’s ever met and that he can’t believe someone as good as you could ever even look at someone like him. But all that comes out is a blurted,

“I’m so glad Nala bulldozed me.”

There it is, your laugh, that fucking adorable laugh that lights up your whole face and lights up Bucky’s world. He joins in with you as you chuckle in response,

“Me too, Buck.”

You call Nala back over from where she’s been happily chasing butterflies, forcing yourself to tear your gaze away from Bucky for a second as she rushes to you. Your heart is racing with adrenaline, and you know your face is red as hell, but you don’t care. All that matters to you right now is Bucky; Bucky asked you out!

You clip Nala’s leash on and meet your gaze with Bucky’s.

“I’m actually off tomorrow night if you want to go then. Could you pick me up at like 8?”

Bucky nods enthusiastically, his voice nearly cracking with excitement as he responds: “Yeah, of course. I’ll text you when I’m almost there.”

“Then it’s a date,” you respond affectionately, clearing your throat as your voice squeaks slightly. Nala looks at you confusedly and you kiss her head, murmuring in her ear but loud enough for Bucky to hear: “I’ll tell you why I’m so happy when we’re home, OK?”

You smile at Bucky, thrilled to see that he’s already smiling at you.

“Bye, Bucky.”

“Bye, Y/N. See you tomorrow.”

Once you’re out of earshot, you can’t help the high pitched “OH MY GOD” that comes from your vocal chords and you start to laugh, doing a quick heel click in the air and grinning from ear to ear.

You hear a sudden whoop of triumphant yelling and laughter from the direction of the park and you turn around, smiling as you see Bucky pull his hood up after his outburst of emotion and dissapearing into the passing crowd.


	3. Chapter 3

“C’mon, get your shit together, Buck,” Bucky murmurs to himself, hands bracing the bathroom sink as he takes a deep breath and looks at his reflection staring back in the mirror.

He’s got to admit, he doesn’t look half bad. He managed to swipe some men’s pomade from a drugstore, using it to help neaten up his normally disheveled brown locks. It’s brushed back behind his ears, further accentuating his strong jawline and his bright blue eyes.

He allows himself a relieved smile – for the first time in however long, he doesn’t hate his reflection. He remembers he used to be handsome; used to feel proud, confident. Right now, though, he’ll settle for put together. But there is some of that self-assurance coming out; tentatively, but emerging nonetheless.

Bucky takes one last look in the mirror, running a hand through his brown locks before smoothing the front of his navy button down – another new item he picked up.

He jumps slightly as he feels a vibration in the pocket of his dark jeans, his heart thumping with anticipation. But it’s not like the terror, the kind of panic he’s used to – the anticipation for the worst, for the day HYDRA or the government finally finds him. He may be nervous, but he’s more excited than anything else. He forgot he could even feel like this, but here he is, ready for his first date with a beautiful, sweet woman; grinning like an idiot as he reads the message that popped up on his phone screen:

“I’ve been excited about our date all day :) Let me know when you’re on the way!”

His right thumb taps across the screen, quickly typing out a reply:

“Me too :) I’m leaving now, actually.”

This is it. There’s no going back now.

“Remember what Y/N said. You deserve to be happy. HYDRA took enough from you, don’t let them keep holding you back.”

Bucky’s thoughts resound reassuringly in his head, but there’s still the tangible undertones of guilt and fear. Would you still have said the same thing if you knew who he really was? What he had done?

“She said yes to you. She wouldn’t have if she didn’t want to.”

Bucky’s eyes squeeze shut in agitation as his thoughts crash inside him. There’s no time for this now.

He nods to himself, opening his eyes, his jaw set with new determination. This was a real chance to start over, to start to feel like a normal person again. To be able to feel, to live … maybe even to love.

Bucky tucks his phone back into his jeans, swiping his wallet off the counter before reluctantly pulling on a pair of gloves. He was surprised that you still hadn’t asked about how he always wore them, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to bring it up himself.

With his wallet in his back pocket now, his right hand is free to grab the simple bouquet of red orchids laying neatly on the counter. He knows that he’s not the ladies’ man that comes back to him in flashes anymore, but he remembers the way girls would beam at him if he brought them flowers.

And God, how he desperately wants you to look at him that way; to see you happy. Happy with him.

Bucky takes one last deep breath, exhaling deeply before he strides out his apartment door; the corner of his mouth turning up as he realize his pulse is quickening not with rage or terror, but with exhilaration. Like a normal guy about to take a pretty girl out on a first date.

Maybe there really was hope for him, after all.

-

You hear a gentle knock at your door and try to keep your heart from leaping out of your chest, abruptly stopping your frantic pacing around your living room to sprint quickly down the hall to check your appearance.

“Two seconds!” You call out, keeping your voice steady but unable to resist the happy squeak you emit under your breath.

You look in the mirror, heart still racing, but you smile. You can’t remember the last time you’ve been on a date, let alone with a guy that was THIS attractive.

You chose to wear a dark, floral skater skirt with bursts of pink and white that shows off your legs well – especially since you’re wearing a pair of heeled booties. Your hair hangs down in loose, pretty waves over your tight-fitting plum long sleeve and you finish the look off with your coziest but still well-fitting jean jacket.

You give yourself an open mouthed grin and a thumbs up in the mirror, running back to the door and snatching your purse off the counter; quickly composing your gleeful expression into a softer smile with a deep inhale before opening the door.

Bucky always looked cute in his henleys and dark jackets, but DAMN, this was something else entirely. He was gorgeous. His navy shirt went perfectly with his stunning blue grey eyes; his sharp jawline as sexy as ever on his newly shaven face. He was smiling a little uncertainly – God, here was this super hot guy on your doorstep actually SHY about taking you out – but it was clear he was excited to be here. You could see the effort, the endearingly sweet effort, from the gel in his hair to his dark boots. And if that wasn’t enough, a blush rose to his cheeks as he pulled his left hand from behind his back, revealing a simple but striking bouquet of pretty red orchids.

“These are for you,” he blurts out, blush deepening as you beam with one hand over your mouth.

You can’t help the surprised and delighted laugh that escapes you as you look at Bucky adoringly; a blush of your own starting to heat up your freckled cheeks.

“This is so sweet, Buck, thank you!”

Your expression turns shy as you lock eyes with his own, staring intensely, warmly into your own.

You smile crookedly as you half laugh and extend an arm out.

“C’mere.”

As you pull your date into a quick hug, he seems to tense for the smallest fraction of a second at your initial touch; you feel him inhale sharply and then exhale quietly, contentedly while his arm works his way around you. God, he smells so fucking good; you’d breathe him in all day if you could.

You pull back with a smile, turning to your kitchen cabinets and grabbing a tall jar to put the flowers in. You turn back as you start to fill it with water, watching Bucky shove his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans as he bites at his lip unconsciously out of nerves.

“So, what’d you do all day?” You ask lightly, but your heart is still pounding – you two are friends, but you are also friends going out on a first date. It’s a blurry area that could be disastrous if you make things awkward – something you determinedly are set out to avoid. You know Bucky can be anxious as it is, so you’re hoping that if you mask your nerves well enough, he’ll follow suit.

He seems utterly relieved that you prompt him with a question and your heart warms as he laughs and runs a hand through his hair.

“Nothing really. Kind of spent most of my time getting ready for this.”

His eyes flicker downward as he continues.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been on a date, honestly.”

You place the flowers in the jar, smiling at him sympathetically as you walk over.

“That’s actually perfect, because neither have I! Now there’s no pressure.”

Bucky rolls his eyes with a low chuckle and you shove him playfully.

“What’s that for?”

“It’s just hard to believe that someone as nice and pretty as you isn’t getting asked out 24/7.”

His eyes widen suddenly as a flicker of worry crosses his face.

“Shit, I didn’t tell you you looked nice, that’s like the first rule of this; you really do look great, I’m not just saying that,” he says earnestly and you bite your lip as you laugh and a wide smile breaks across your face.

“Thanks, I did try extra hard tonight.” You smile coyly as you step close to him, looking up to meet his eyes with yours.

“Girl’s gotta look her best when her date is this good-looking.”

Bucky chuckles again, surprising you – and himself – as he wraps his arm affectionately around your waist; his heart racing as he speaks while you wrap your arm back around his and you both move out your apartment door. This, being with you, the subtle shifts in physical affection, it all seems so right, so natural. And now, with you tucked in close at his side, Bucky feels what he hasn’t in a long time. Safe. Happy.

Bucky gently squeezes your waist as you both walk down the hall, a flirtatious smirk breaking across his face as you giggle. This, right here with you, it shows him that he can still feel good; that things can be good. That he himself can be good again. And now, he has an even more compelling reason to fight for his happiness; for this good. It’s not just for him anymore, it’s also for you.

“You’ve very cute, you know that?” He murmurs with a small smile, gazing at you with his eyes sparkling; full of tenderness and excitement.

“Nahhhh I don’t, you’re just gonna have to remind me ALLLL night.”

Bucky has to fight the urge to kiss you right then and there. Goddamn, does it feel good to believe in something again. In himself, in what he has with you and what you could be.

“Trust me, doll, I’m planning on it.”

——

YEAH I’M KEEPING Y’ALL IN SUSPENSE MWAHAHA THEIR DATE IS GOING TO BE THE CUTEST OF THE CUTE WHERE ARE THEY GOING YOU’LL HAVE TO WAIT AND SEE U KNOW U LOVE ME XOXO GOSSIP GIRL AKA MEGAN THNKS FOR READING AND PUTTING UP WITH MY SLOW ASS WRITING


	4. Chapter 4

You and Bucky walk out into the bustling sidewalk outside your apartment, a smile spreading across your face as the warm September breeze hits your skin. It was a beautiful day, you were with a beautiful boy, Nala was sleeping beautifully from the chamomile-laced jerky strips you fed her – you couldn’t remember the last time an evening had just felt so right. 

Bucky was thinking along similar lines, almost feeling as if he had wandered into someone else’s daydream, someone else’s normal life. But no, this was real, this was his life; his heart beating, lungs breathing, nerves tingling. It’s his eyes that stay fixated on you as you speak animatedly about your day at work, but your presence transcends past his vision and stirs something deep inside him. He doesn’t know the word to describe it, he just knows it’s strong, it’s warm and goddamn, is it intoxicating.

“So now because of this mother fucker and the incinerated chicken fiasco that resulted in Kostya’s eyebrows disintegrating, Kostya is now putting us all on babysitting shifts to make sure he doesn’t disfigure anyone else. I mean, I get it’s his nephew, but he used 100-proof whiskey on a flambe!! That’s like throwing a gas tank on a bonfire because you wanted things a little toastier.”

“Classic rookie mistake,” Bucky deadpans and you laugh and there it is – that feeling in his chest that abruptly spreads down and through his lower body when your hand reaches to rub on his back; Bucky’s mind jumping to the thought of how it would feel to have those fingertips trace and scratch at the skin underneath …

“Thanks for letting me vent, I know I ramble a lot but MAN it was a long day – hey, are you ok?”

Bucky’s face has turned deeply pained, almost frustrated, and you feel the muscles tense underneath your hand. He’s staring down, blue eyes averting your gaze and fixed on the cobblestone street.

When was the last time he had felt like this, felt any sense of attraction and arousal? Hell, his last kiss was in the 1930s. And even if you wanted to, even if he thought he could without hurting you – and without feeling like an awkward 17 year old – how could you ever be able to see him so intimately? If you only knew the metal monstrosity seared to his flesh, what it had done, what he had done … how could you ever want to be with someone like that?

“Bucky?”

The gentle concern in your voice drags him out of the mounting self-loathing and anxiety building in his head and he turns to you, smoothing his features out quickly but not quick enough for you to dismiss the moment as lacking any meaning.

“What? Oh, shit, I’m sorry, sometimes I just .. get stuck in my head. I’m sorry.”

He’s so earnest that it pains you. Every part of you wants to ask him what’s wrong, to plea and get him to talk and for you to prove yourself trustworthy to Bucky – even though almost every part of you has a decent idea of what’s plaguing him.

You’ve seen it before; the bright eyes that could go dead in an instant, staring out at seemingly nothing as the mind wanders to God knows where, the body that shifts from relaxed to agitated, the mood swings that left your mother crying in the kitchen while your father cried even harder, his apologies coming in ragged sobs while you sat unnerved; wondering what had changed your dad into someone who seemed so sad, so shaken and different. You never found out what it was that he experienced that triggered his mental illness, but you found out it was too much for him to carry when he jumped from the Danube Bridge after he dropped you off at school.

You don’t want to assume anything, but even just the way Bucky carries himself, the way he moves protectively, cautiously – you’d bet on your life that he was a soldier too. It would explain the gloves too, if he was caught up in some nasty burns from an IED.

But hell, you’ve only known him for a few weeks, and you’re here on your first date, and you don’t want to press him just yet, so instead of asking him to explain, you ignore your instincts.

Your smile contains the same softness as your voice when you reply, “It’s ok. Just want to make sure you’re ok.”

Bucky nods, brushing his dark hair back as the corner of his mouth pulls up into a crooked smile.

“Yeah, I’m great, I successfully asked you out, how could I not be?”

You snicker lightly and shake your head, pushing your serious thoughts down.

“Talk about it later, Y/N. At least get a beer in each of you! Then if it bombs, well, there’s always more beer.”

“Smoooooth, Buck.” All seriousness pushed aside, your heart flutters at the sight of a very real, bashful blush creeping up your date’s cheeks, and your tone turns playful and coy all at once.

“Aw don’t be embarrassed! Even with being a little cheesy, you’re still as cute as you were five minutes ago.”

“How is she so adorable and sexy at the same time oh my god you need to do something cute back. Remember, girls loved your eyes. That was a thing. Use the eyes.”

Bucky’s eyes close as he shakes his head with a chuckle, and you feel your stomach flip at the way he looks at you when they open again; locked on yours with a kind of tender focus you haven’t seen from him before. Now it’s your turn to blush and his turn to laugh, you covering your face with your hands as you yell comically, “NOOOO!”

“Heyyy, c’mere.”

Your body tingles as you feel Bucky’s hand move shyly across your back, settling lightly on your waist to bring you back closer to him from how you veered off with your eyes closed.

Your hip bumps against his lightly and you savor the contact as you briefly lean against his side, relishing the feel of his body against yours, if only temporarily. 

“Still as cute as you were 5 minutes ago,” he murmurs above your head, and you can hear the grin in his voice before you look up and see it.

“Hey, no stealing my lines! But back to more pressing matters, where are we going? And you don’t have to worry about me not liking it; literally anywhere where I’m not cooking for myself or someone else is perfect to me.”

You sigh internally as Bucky’s fingers slowly move off your hip, instead drawing back to his side where they hang tantalizingly close to yours.

He nods forward and you look down the narrow Old Town street, starting to come fully alive in the pressing dusk.

“Just around the corner, actually. You’ve probably been to it, if you’d rather go somewhere else that’s totally fine, but it’s Caru’ cu Bere.”

Without even giving you time to open your mouth, Bucky’s nerves get the best of him and he asks,

“Is that ok?”

The glowing look you gives him calms him down as you nod eagerly: “That’s honestly one of my favorite places, you’re a smart guy, Bucky.”

Bucky exhales deeply, a true smile lighting up his features as he feels some of the anxiety lessening with your reassurance.

“I do what I can.”

You round the corner together and are surprised by the widening street suddenly filled with people, a dazzling array of color and movement and smells and sounds; rides and vendor booths, the twinkling lights just starting to come to life and illuminating the street in the fading sunlight.

You clap your hand to your forehead, the genuine excitement in your voice that radiates across your face forcing Bucky to use all of his restraint to not try to kiss you right then and there.

“OH MY GOD I’m a disgrace to Bucharest, I’ve been so busy at work that I forgot it was Autumn Festival this weekend! It’s so fun, I missed it last year but the year before, my friend Michael got hammered and ended up dancing on stage with the little kids doing their traditional dances and a dance mom chased him off –” you break off, suddenly self-conscious of your babbling and turn to Bucky with a sheepish grin.

Damn those gorgeous blue eyes already fixed on yours. And here you are, rambling like a child.

“I’m sorry, I just get really into festivals here and –”

“You want to go to this, don’t you?”

You clasp your hands together earnestly and with a wide grin that Bucky returns, just happy that he can be the one to put that beautiful smile on your face.

“Would you mind? We can totally still do dinner first if you want though! It’ll still be here after.”

Bucky’s resulting smile sends warmth flooding straight through your chest, his face eager but his eyes a bit wary as he takes in the large crowd – something you don’t miss, but once again, don’t press.

“Stop being paranoid. It’s been two years. HYDRA isn’t going to be lurking at a carnival expecting you to be there. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to be normal. Go do it.”

He turns to you to speak, but both of your attentions are seized by a passing family whose arms are laden with festival food. The tantalizing, mingling aromas of fresh covrigi, mititei and plăcinte waft through the air; the two of you audibly sighing in unison before you start to laugh and Bucky responds:

“Dinner here?”

“Yes, please.”

“You deserve to be happy.”

Bucky plays your words like a mantra in his head, and when he takes in your sparkling eyes fixed on his, your face so lit up with a pure kind of enthusiasm, well, it finally gives him the courage he needs to bring his fingers to touch against yours.

You don’t need any coaxing as you intertwine your fingers with Bucky’s, both of you now blushing but this time, there’s no joking about it. You squeeze his hand and share one more smile before walking into the crowd together.

You don’t know it, but you’re sharing thoughts, too:

“I can’t believe this is my life.”


End file.
